Winter's Heir
by Four O Clocks
Summary: Jon Snow was truly a wretched man. Of all the blows he had been dealt, surely this was the worst. Just as one cannot change circumstance, one cannot change feelings. Had that been the case, he would not have fallen for his half sister. Jon/OFC. Smut. Fake!Cest. Slight AU
1. Ned Stark's Bastard

**AN:**

This thing operates under the assumption that Jon Snow is really Lyanna's son. I wanted it to be a reader insert, but apparently that's a no-go. Also, this is my first attempt at anything sexual. Soooo, enjoy.

* * *

Surely the old gods were laughing in his face.

Jon was not a naive man, he knew the hand he was dealt, and he played it the best he could. Despite being a bastard, he counted himself lucky he had a father like Ned Stark, and brothers who loved him. His years at Winterfell had been good ones, with the exception of the way Lady Catelyn had treated him, and he should not, would not, complain. Even now at the age of 17 he was still provided with a safe home, delicious food, kinship, and a warm bed. All of this helped ease the dull throbbing pain and self doubt that festered in the back of his thoughts, out of sight and occasionally out of mind.

lately, though, it had become harder and harder to come to terms with what he was, and how he was feeling. And the latter was not driven by the first, at least, not directly.

His emotions were swirling out of control, and he was trying desperately to get a grip on himself. His inner turmoil had slowly been building over the past 3 years, and was nearing it's boiling point. It had crept up behind him like his family's own sigil. A wolf, quiet and surefooted in the harsh snows of the north. If he looked over his shoulder he could catch fleeting glimpses of the ruthless predator, but that wasn't enough to stave off the inevitable onslaught. A carefree smile, and knowing glance, the feeling of Annalysa's delicate fingers grasping his arm as they walked to dinner. Slowly but with a startling certainty she had chipped away his defenses and left his mind open to her; his heart was vulnerable to her unknowing advances, and his body to the dull ache that stirred in his chest and abdomen awhen she was near.

A dry chuckle forced it's way out of his mouth and past his chapped lips at the thought.

He both hated and loved her for it.

Jon had come to realize that he loved her in a way no brother should. He knew he was disgusting, and shameful, and unworthy of being even half a Stark, but none of that could dampen the need he felt for her. He wanted her time, her attention, her body, and the happy life he had often daydreamed about having with her. He yearned to lie with her as a man would his wife, he wished it would be her who would bear him children, and he needed to ensure she was safe and happy.

He could do none of this.

He was destined to take the black like his uncle Benjen. He was condemned to forsake love, family, and Lys, for a chance of making a name for himself and recovering the honor he was denied upon birth.

This isn't what stung him though. If he could have known his sister's affections for even just a day before leaving the wall, he would have been content. If he thought for even a moment that Lys wanted him and needed him even a 10th he did her, he could have died happy.

Jon, however, had no intention of exposing her to the shame his love would cause, and himself to what would be her inevitable disdain, disappointment, and disgust. Loving your sister in such a manner, even if she shares only half your blood, is wrong.

Of all the reasons he wished he were not born Ned Stark's bastard, this was the biggest one.

* * *

Analysa was born the eldest daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Like the rest of the Stark children she took after her mother in most things. She had the Tully coloring, her sense of pride, and the innate generousness that made her well liked with most. One thing she had not inherited from her mother, however, was Catelyn's disdain for Jon Snow.

In fact, Jon was her favorite Stark, even if he wasn't one. Sure she loved Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and on most occasions Sansa, but Jon held a special spot in her heart. When they were much younger, Lys would follow them around and beg them to play with her. Robb always claimed to be too busy "studying" to be the future head of the Stark family, but Jon would always look at her with his sad, kind eyes and take her off to the library to read or out to the stables to pet the horses.

Lys smiled at the memory and paused her needle work to check on Arya and Sansa. The three of them had been practicing their stiches before lunch, so that they could have the afternoons to themselves. To no huge surprise, her oldest sister was taking great care with her work, and on the other side of the room Arya could be seen wrestling the thread. She shook her head and stood, gaining the Septa's attention.

"I've finished my needlework early today, would you mind looking over it?"

Though it was a bit sloppier than usual because she was trying to get it done quickly, her teacher saw it as fitting of a lady of her stature and she was allowed to leave her lessons to attend to her "duties". She could hear Arya complaining as she left the room, and Sansa chastising her shortly after.

Analysa didn't make it a habit to cut her lessons early- like her youngest sister- but she had no qualms with fudging it a bit if it meant that she would have time to watch Robb and Jon as they sparred. Lately she hadn't seen much of them, and she missed their company and light hearted banter dearly. She also missed watching Theon getting put in his place.

She hummed to herself as she turned the corner into the training grounds and found a spot suitable to watch the boys take swings at each other with the wooden practice swords.

She watched as Robb and Jon exchanged calculated blows and chuckled when they made their witty remarks. She observed the way Robb would pivot his feet, and the manner in which Jon would angle his wrist. Watching her boys was truly one of her favorite things. Sometimes she would do so even when they weren't fighting. Her mother said her observant nature would suit her well when she was married and helping to run her husband's affairs.

She would notice how Robb would subconsciously straighten his back and throwback his shoulders when father entered the room. She even noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Rickon.

The same went for Jon. She loved that when he was truly smiling his eyes would crinkle, and how when he was worried his eyebrows would knit together and his countenance darken. Really, she just loved Jon. He was simply the best.

She had realized lately how much he had grown, too. He wasn't the boy who would sit with her in the library and read tales of noble warrior princesses and dashing knights. At the age of 17, her brother Jon Snow was a man, and a handsome man at that. Though some women might not find the solemn stark face appealing, she thought the strength and honor it held was just as great as any strong jaw or high cheekbones. She hoped that whatever lord she married he would be just as handsome, and at least half the man Jon was.

As practice neared it's end and the boys wrapped up, she called out to them from her comfortable spot on the balcony. They exchanged smiles and pleasantries as the boys cleaned up, and she flew down the stairs so she could meet them on their way out.

"Jon, Robb! You were excellent today." She sent them a pretty smile and took her place at their sides. A brisk nod behind her "Theon".

"Come now, _M'lady_, no need to be so cold. We both know the real reason you come to watch is to see me." Raising her eyebrow, she ventured a reply. "Hardly. I come for Jon and Robb." "How about I make you come for me sometime? We have a moment before lunch starts. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes at most"

Theon's brazenness caught everyone off guard, even though it really shouldn't have. Jon was the first to react, a base need to protect Lys and her honor had him whipping around, fist raised. Robb's shock cleared just in time to grab him under the arms and yank him back, but not before Jon had managed to deal a blow below his eye. Lys just stood there staring at the scene in front of her. Theon had always said those sort of things to her, and never once had Jon actually hit him for it. They might exchange harsh words or angry stares, but this had never happened before.

She was delighted that Theon got what he was due, and that Jon had reacted the way he did, but at the same time she knew this wouldn't bode well for him. He had been testier and more quick to anger lately, and she feared what would happen if he and her mother had a confrontation over what had just occurred.

It took a few minutes, but Jon regained his composure. Sensing that it was safe to let go of Jon, Robb briskly loped over to where Theon was sitting on the hard ground, clutching his face. "Lys, take Jon somewhere, I'll handle him."

She nodded and made her way over to the dark haired man, being sure to tread lightly. The last thing she wanted was for Jon to get angry and snap at her. She didn't know if any of them could handle that right now. However he did nothing of the sort. Instead, he spared her a glance and let her tug him away from the scene and towards one of the tall stone structures before them. He didn't notice which one.

* * *

Jon was angry. He was angry with Theon for speaking the way he did with his Lys. He was angry with her for the way she put up with his lecherous comments and stares, and most of all he was furious with himself. His stomach churned with a fury wholly unfamiliar with him. He was furious he had no control over his emotions, and that he loved his own sister. He was frustrated and hurt that there was no hope of receiving her love in return. He was irate that he was so weak, that he couldn't do a single thing about it.

His fingernails dug into his palms and his knuckles turned white.

The feeling of hands clutching the rough woolen fabric above his abdomen was enough to break his thoughts. All the rage that had been burning heavy on his breast shot straight down to his groin at the intimate contact between his sister's hands and his stomach.

He nearly let out a strangled groan when he saw Lys' demure expression. She looked up at him through her lashes and seemed to be talking. He couldn't make out what she was saying though, not when she was so close to him. He could practically taste the indistinct murmur of her voice on his lips. The sweet words she spoke in an effort to console him flew right over his head, and straight to his cock.

Jon had never been with a women before, and everything that was happening was nothing short of a maelstrom. He had no hope of controlling himself. He couldn't be near her, or he would do something they would both regret.

"Jon, please!" her voice grew an octave higher when she realized he wasn't listening to her. "Can we please just talk! I've hardly seen you this past month and you're clearly upset! Just tell me what I can do to help make this better, to help make you feel better!"

Jon grasped her warm hands in his trembling ones and pushed her away from his body as gently as he could manage in his agitated state.

"I'm not feeling well. I won't be at lunch. Go." "But Jo-" "Dammit, I said go Analysa"

Startled, she took a step back.

Jon saw the hurt in her eyes, and the way her lips trembled. He didn't know what to do, so he turned on his heel and ran.

* * *

The cold, smooth surface of the stones contrasted sharply with his warmth his body was throwing off. After he had ducked away from his sister, he had practically sprinted to the nearest unpopulated corridor of the Stark's labyrinth of a home. He had to get away. Jon was flustered and out of breath, and it wasn't because of his run. Her proximity and words just a few minutes ago set something off inside him that he had been fighting for years.

He took a shaky breath and braced himself against the wall of the old stone corridor. Back hunched and forehead pressed to cool stone, he fought to regain control of his mind, and body- but it was to no avail. The solidarity and indifference of the stone offered no reprieve from the images swarming his mind and the sheen of sweat covering his strong, muscled body. His legs were quaking, his back and shoulders taunt, and his cock erect. A particularly vivid image of Lys' bare body spread across the furs on his bed caused a near-painful twitch in his groin, and effectively silenced any arguments he had against pleasuring himself in middle of a hallway, exposed to any whom happened to wander this far out of their way.

Trembling hands made their way down to the leather ties at the front of his breeches. His clumsy fingers tugged at them for a second or two before he lost his patience, wrenching them open and forcing his hand inside. A throaty grunt escaped as his calloused fingers wrapped around his shaft. The fantasies that he had tried staving off flooded to the forefront of his mind. All thoughts and awareness of the world around him fell away as he saw Lys' delicate hands tentatively caressing him. He could feel the smooth, creamy skin of her thighs as he settled himself above her. Her eyes were shining with a look of want and slight embarrassment becoming of her, but they didn't hold even a flash of denial or disgust. She met his half-lidded gaze head on and only broke it to release a breathy sigh when his hands made their way to the inside of her thigh. His thumb swept a steady line across the sensitive skin of her leg, not daring to touch her without her consent. His body was thrumming with promise of making love to her, and his mind was clouded with her scent.

His other hand was in her hair, pushing the soft strands of her hair away from her sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks. The sight of her lithe body exposed, and need that had clouded her Tully blue eyes was heedier than any drug or mead any mortal man could hope to encounter. So he drank from her lips. The kiss started out soft and feather-light, just barely touching his chapped lips to her pink ones. The reverent kiss quickly developed into firm, long meetings, and finally to a battle of tongue and teeth. Jon was a naturally sensible, if not a bit austere, man, but the feeling of her body pressing up against his bare chest sent his mind into a frenzy. His right hand gripped her hair, forcing her closer to his desperate mouth, and his left clutched at her hip, grinding his engorged cock harshly against her stomach. Her startled moan had him biting back one of his own. He buried his face in her neck, his curls mingling with her love-tousled hair, and dragged the palm of his hand from her head, through the valley of her breasts, and straight to her cunt.

They locked eyes as he ran his fingertips across her sensitive skin. The dazed and desperate look she cast him was all the confirmation he needed. He propped himself up on his elbows so that he was hovering over her sweat sheened body, so that he would have more leverage as he pleasured her with his hand. His thick fingers slid back to their previous position. A quick glance at her face told him all the words he had never dreamed of hearing her saying. In them he saw the love they shared, the mutual need and desperation, the same longing.

He dragged the calloused pad of his thumb slowly over her clit, and eased a finger into her tight slit. They both moaned. Jon's arms were shaking with the exertion of holding himself up, and with the weight of his desire. No matter how many times they did this, or would do it, he could never imagine it losing its appeal. She trembled for him, moaned for him, tightened for him, and if he was feeling particularly cheeky, she begged for him. He would gladly kill men, go to war, or sacrifice any of his earthly possessions if it meant that the two could be united like this. He poured all his emotion into the act of making love with his Lys.

As his finger quickened its pace, he slipped in a second and pushed harder and more insistently on her nub. The painful pulsing of his groin intensified as her walls contracted around his fingers, and he had to screw his eyes shut and clench his stomach to stop himself from coming all over her beautiful stomach. He knew if she kept looking at him the way she did, and kept twisting and bucking her hips, he would not last long. Neither of them wanted that.

Jon forced himself away from her body and settled back onto his knees. They locked eyes again, and Jon gave himself three quick tugs before hooking his arms under her legs and pulling her body across the bed and towards him. He kept the eye contact as he guided his cock home.

* * *

The sound of a silver platter hitting cold hard stone ripped him away from the women he loved. He had been so close to what he so desperately wanted and deserved.

Jon's stomach dropped and he was overwhelmed with a wave of dread when he locked eyes with startled blue, his hand still fisted around his shaft.


	2. Like a lamb to the slaughter

**A/N:** I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who favorited and followed! I know people don't really review (and to be honest, I don't even know how to respond directly to those), so to see all the interest has been super rewarding. Especially because I never post any of my odd-ball ideas. Hopefully my next update will come out a bit quicker. End of school work has really divided my attention. There is no smut in this chapter, and a lot of whiny angst, but that should change within the next two chapters :) Once the situation unravels there will be lots of angsty/happy/cute/rough/Idontevenknow Jon lovin'. Also, feel free to review/PM/Call me/Beep me/Drive to my house and knock on my door/etc. if you feel Jon is OC, there is something you want to see in the future, or you see some sort of major inaccuracy.

* * *

It had been little over a fortnight since she had last made eye contact with Jon, and even longer since she had spoken more than a few polite words to him. She had gone out of her way to avoid his company whenever possible, and to ensure that she was never left alone with him. She didn't think she could bare it

Lys lifted her eyes away from her pewter plate and allowed them to roam across the dark stone room her and her family were dining in. Her father often insisted the family took supper in the old, noisy mess hall with his men. It was his way of getting to knowing them, and letting them become familiar and comfortable with him. There was always an extra seat set at the family table when they dined here, because it was a tradition for Eddard Stark to invite different men to converse with him while he ate. Some nights it would be Septon Chayle, from the library. She was fond of him because of his seemingly infinite knowledge. Whenever she had a moment when she wasn't charged with lessons, her sisters, or Rickon, she would slip into the family library and poor over the old tomes packed away on the upper shelves and converse with the old man. These occasions were becoming progressively scarce, however, much to her chagrin. The older she got, it seemed, the more responsibility fell on her.

Sometimes Ser Rodrik or Mikkan would sit as well, but usually their guests were men whom she had never had the opportunity or cause to be acquainted with. On days like that she would listen to what they said in earnest, as they were often versed in subjects she hadn't even read about, let alone concerned herself with.

Tonight however, she couldn't do so. In fact, she hadn't been able to focus on much of anything except avoiding Jon for the past two weeks. When she wasn't being addressed by her mother or father, she made sure to busy herself with Arya, and when her sister tired of her company, she would engage in conversation with Sansa or wander out to the Godswood and think. She would not allow her attentions anywhere near Jon Snow, who luckily, also deemed it wise to keep his distance.

The indistinct murmurs of the unnamed man and the tamed rumblings from the servants and soldiers who lined the halls lulled Lys into a sort of trance. She felt a bit calmer than she had allowed herself to feel in the past few days. If any had ventured to observe her, they would think everything was as it usually was. Despite looking the slightest bit haggard, her expression was one of carefully composed nonchalance and contentment. Her lips were neither pulled into a smile nor pursed into a frown. Her delicate brow was smooth and seemingly carefree. However, inside she was anything but.

After coming across her brother in such a compromising position, she hadn't been able to face him. She didn't do it to be mean, or spiteful, or even to embarrass him. In reality she was probably just as embarrassed as he was. Lys was not an overly naive or innocent girl, but she had never seen a naked man before. Stumbling upon Jon when his pants were pooled around his ankles and manhood exposed was the last thing she would have anticipated happening to her. All she had wanted to do was bring her lunch to the library and clear her thoughts. That was all she asked. After Jon and Theon, she just wanted some peace. She didn't get it.

She was shocked that her first intimate situation with a man, _if you could even call it that_, she mused, was with her older brother. Her stomach clenched at the thought.

His eyes had burned her even through their haze, and his pained expression caused a startled gasp to catch in her throat. She had no clue what was going on, at least not before her eyes locked on what he had been doing not 2 seconds prior. After seeing the way his fingers were wrapped around his exposed cock, her mind shut off. She was stuck, legs like the old gnarled roots that anchored the Godswood to the harsh and unforgiving northern soil. They both stared at each other, minds slow to process what had occurred, though for different reasons. Analysa was reeling from shock, and Jon's mind was heavy and slow to break free from the cloud of lust clogging his mind. He had enough sense, however, to preserve what decency he had left, and as soon as he was able to make use of his trembling fingers he attempted to work himself back into his pants. The sudden movement was enough to catch her attention, and as soon as she got her bearings she turned on her heel and bolted from her position, like a frightened doe.

Her cheeks burned at the memory, and she forced her eyes back to her plate in embarrassment. Thoughts similar to those that just plagued her had been constant companions lately. She was getting sick of this!

"You hold that fork as if it were a sword. If you want to hurt someone, you'll want a better weapon than that". Her boldest sister quipped, pulling Lys from her internal pity party. She knew she was being a bit difficult, but that didn't make dealing with this mess any easier. "And what would you know of holding a sword young lady?"

Despite the curt tone her sister used, Arya knew she meant nothing by it. "The way you're gripping it is the way Kaleb clings to his sword when he knows he's about to be thrashed by brother." Kaleb was a servant's boy who liked to join the men practicing swordsmanship when his father was not keeping an eye on him. He wasn't very good, but he was brave for a boy of 13. He took the blows he was dealt and did his best to return them.

She released the tight grip she had unwittingly subjected her fork to. If Kaleb could be brave, then why couldn't she? If he could take blows and hold fast, shouldn't she also be able to as well? She was a Stark, and she knew she better start acting like one. Dancing around an enemy and silently brooding to yourself will win you no battles. To come out victorious you must face your foe head on.

She would talk to Jon, and she would apologize. It was selfish of her to ignore him, and ignorant of her to blame him for what he had done. She just hoped he wasn't cross with her, and would accept her apology. Hopefully it would be just the same as before, and she would get her Jon back.

* * *

Jon Snow was miserable. That much was plain to see.

He had barely slept or eaten over the past two weeks, and spoke even less. His mood was weighing on him so heavily that he could hardly force himself to lift his training sword, let alone spar with Robb and Theon.

While his body was that of a solid young man, his doleful eyes shone with the pains and wisdoms even men three times his age would never experience. He was Atlas. Doomed to shoulder his heavy burden as punishment for his sins. Sentenced to isolation, and forced to watch the world goes on without him. As Lys goes on without him.

Jon was not a possessive man, but he had realized long ago that he would do almost anything to keep her and her affections. She never asked for much, but what she did he gave unconditionally. Mostly she requested his company and companionship, but on the occasion she asked for a favor, or advice, or to sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack, and he did everything in his power to deliver. The appreciative looks and face-splitting smiles she gave him in return were worth more to him that all the lands and money owned by the king.

It was these looks that Jon often thought about during his self-imposed exile and punishment.

He constantly replayed the events of that day, and of years prior through his weary mind. He was positive that she found him absolutely repulsive. She would not meet his eyes, or acknowledge his presence. When he so much as entered the same room she fled. The beautiful words she used to have for him had withered in her mouth, and it left him absolutely devastated. The women he had loved the past three years, the women whom he wished to give everything, had no kindness for him.

And he didn't blame her. What he did was disgusting. He didn't know if she had heard him panting her name, but he supposed at this point it doesn't really matter.

She hated him, and he couldn't stay. he wouldn't stay. He would go to The Wall. That would be the best for both of them. That way they could both forget.

"Jon". He raised his eyes from the chestnut colored mare standing in front of him to the face of his father.

"Jon, is this where you've been hiding?" The friendly smile and attempted joke did nothing to alter his mood. "Son," Eddard Stark started, putting a comforting hand on his child's fur-clad shoulder.

"I understand that it has not been easy for you, and I don't think I have to tell you how proud I am. You are just as much a Stark as the rest of your brothers and sisters. Despite what Catelyn might say, I want to see you at dinner tonight. Put no stock in the hard looks she gives you."

_Nonono!_ Jon wanted to yell until his throat was dry and his voice cracked. It was becoming more and more apparent that none of his family understood him in the least. At one time, Lady Stark's harsh words and general disdain for his existence had hurt him, and had, on occasion, made him cry.

The pain he was in now had nothing to do with her. His shame and self-imposed isolation was his fault. He didn't want his father's comforts, he wanted Lys'. His kind words were not the ones he was yearning to hear, and until she came and told him that everything was okay, and that she wanted and needed his company just as much as he did hers, herself (which deep down inside he knew would never happen), he would stay a respectful distance and do what he could for her from afar, and in anonymity. He knew he wasn't strong enough to stay away, but that didn't mean he had to burden her with his company.

But, Jon knew he could not deny his father this request, and so, when the time came, Jon forced himself away from the barn and towards the dining hall.

Dinner that night was a surprisingly nice time for Jon. It was the longest he had been around company, and Lys, for weeks. It was a small, albeit a bit awkward, comfort for him. He would talk to Robb, and Bran, and Rickon and exchange light conversation with his father. Arya would even lean over the table and shout a few words his way. It was as if nothing had changed during his time away. he only difference was that his oldest, and most dear sister would not look at him. It hurt, but just sharing the same space as her acted as salve on his wound.

He would watch her when everyone was too caught up with food and conversation to bother themselves with his affairs. She always seemed engrossed with something. If she was not eating, then she was talking with Arya or Sansa. Always with her back to him.

He was sure it was better this way. At least he would not embarrass himself further. She needn't know about his feelings, and there was absolutely no reason to discuss what had caused the tension between them. Both would cause nothing but harm for the two of them.

Dinner ran late that night, but Jon didn't notice or care. For once he was just enjoying the time he had with his family. When it was time for Catelyn to put Rickon to bed, and for the rest of the Stark children to get washed up, Jon realized that he was not quite ready to retire.

The crunching of snow under his heavy steps and Ghost's paws fill the frost bitten air. Jon slipped through the doors of the empty barn and made his way to the very end of the corridor of old wooden stalls. Tack was hanging on the far side of the wall, and he glanced at it for a moment, before turning to the bin filled with grooming brushes. It was too late to ride out alone, but that didn't mean he could busy himself with grooming the horses. Grabbing one or two, Jon straightened himself back up and made his way back to the front of the building, where he had left his companion.

He nearly dropped everything when he saw what awaited him. Sitting not three feet away from him was his sister. She was perched on a bale of hay, Ghost's head resting on her lap. She made no move to greet Jon, and gave no indication she even heard him. She just ran her fingers through the wolf's shaggy fur. For a minute he was jealous of the attention she was paying to Ghost.

Lys' eyes were heavy, but after a moment or two she lifted them to meet his. "Jon" His name escaped her lips in a breathy whisper. Lowering her eyes, she motioned to the open space beside her and asked him to sit.

* * *

Lys felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Her father had once said that the only time you can be truly courageous, is when you're afraid. She was afraid, and not feeling particularly courageous. But she would do it, because it needed to be done. She just hoped that Jon wouldn't turn her away. She would be devastated if her brother wanted nothing to do with her. They had been so close, and she missed him.

She hoisted her gown high enough to enable her to sprint across the frozen ground and towards the old wooden barn. Her slippers provided her little to no protection, and she had left her warm furs inside. She had been in such a rush to slip away from the table and track down Jon that she hadn't given the weather a second thought. The cold wind bit at her cheeks, and her face was stained pink by the time she made it to the door. Despite all her decidedly inelegant (and rather loud) huffing and puffing, she managed to slide the door open and quietly shut it behind her. If anyone else was in the barn besides Jon, she did not want to alert them to her presence. She was supposed to be in bed.

After latching the door, she turned around and pressed her back against it. She could still see her breath hanging in the air.

She nearly jumped when she felt something brush against her leg. It was Ghost, and she was very, very happy to see him. He still seemed to enjoy her company. She hoped his master would be just as responsive. Ghost trotted silently behind her as she found a seat. If he was here, then Jon was sure to show up soon. Ghost must have sensed her uncertainty, because he settled his head on her lap, offering her reassurance and warmth. She bowed her head to look at him. She loved Ghost almost as much as she loved Jon. Her own direwolf was a lot like the both of them. Independent, silent, but warm.

"Ghost, where is Jon?" she murmured, pressing a kiss on the crest of his white head. "I miss him terribly."

Voicing her feeling out loud made them all the more real; tears sprung in her eyes, and she buried her face into his neck.

The sound of distant footsteps roused her from her position. She lifted her head, but kept her eyes focused on the animal in front of her. By now Jon was standing a few feet away, but she couldn't lift her eyes. She was afraid of what she'd see in them. Anger? Sadness? Disgust? He hadn't tried to talk to her either. What if he didn't want to speak with her after all? All the courage she had talk herself into left her.

A nearly imperceptible nudge from Ghost's head gave her the prompting she needed. She was already here, even if she wanted to run, she couldn't. Not with Jon so close.

Lys raised her tired eyes to Jon's. The silence was awkward, and the words were heavy on her tongue. She had ran through what she was going to say countless times, but now that she was meeting his sad sunken eyes head on, she stumbled to grasp the words that wanted to spill from her mouth.

"Jon". Patting the space beside her is the most she could manage. He stared at her for a second, his eyes unreadable. He heaved a heavy sigh, but took the seat offered. He sat as far away as he possibly could, she noticed. He was nearly falling of the bale of hay she had made her temporary resting place.

She hated it. Absolutely hated it. He wouldn't even sit next to her.

Suddenly Lys was wheeling around, Ghost long forgotten. Squaring her jaw, she met her brother's eyes. "I-I'm sorry Jon. I'm so stupid. I've been avoiding you and acting like a child. I'm so so sorry. You've done nothing wrong, and yet here I am. Yo-you're a man now, and I know you...do those things. And I don't think any less of you for what I saw. I just, I just miss you terribly." Her pink lips were quivering. "Please forgive me, brother. I love you, and no matter what you did or might do in the future, I never want us to act li-like strangers. I'm so sorry."

Jon said nothing.

"Please Jon" by now her voice was cracking. Her cheeks were flushed in a mix of embarrassment and passion. Hands fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Lys" Jon all but whispered. He didn't need to say anything more. She saw everything she needed to hear in his softening eyes. In less than a second her arms are wrapped around his neck, and her face buried into his shoulder. He was stunned for a moment, but when he realized what had occurred he threw his arms around her small waist and pulled her fully into his lap. His grip was so tight, it had his knuckles turning white. Jon let out a tight relieved chuckle before burying his head in her soft hair and bringing a calloused hand to the back of her head, effectively cradling her soft body into his warm chest.


	3. Calm before the storm

**AN**: Thanks everyone for the follows and favorites! I'm not going to lie, it seriously gives me warm fuzzy feelings. I have a few announcements, and then I'll leave you to your reading:

Please check out the song Dark Days by the Punch Brothers. It's the officially unofficial theme song of this story, and my major source of inspiration. If you wanna know how this story is going to go, check it out :)

This story is about to get a bit darker. Brace yourselvessssssssss, winter is coming!

I've had a new story idea floating around in my head lately. Feel your eyes peeled for a new Dark!Robb fic, inspired by the song Breezeblocks by Alt-J and WhosThatChic's portrayal of Robb in her fic Obsidaticum. Go check out both, for the love of all things good.

And, finally, I'd just like to thank everyone who took the time to review. You guys are great :')

* * *

The months following Jon and Lys' confrontation in the barn were some of the sweetest of their lives. The heaviness that lied between them was cast off, and in its place sprung a friendship seemingly ten times stronger than it had been previously. The change was hard to miss.

Jon had lightened up considerably; he would smile more often and take criticisms and jokes with more grace than he had previously. He still had his occasional moods, but all-in-all he had evolved from a gloomy old man into a contented youth.

Lys' change was less subtle than Jon's, but just as heartfelt. There was hardly a time when she couldn't be found without a smile. She had gained a fervor for her life and work that she had not previously known. Having Jon's constant support and company was giving her the foundation she needed to blossom into a beautiful young lady.

The pair had barely left each other's side since the night they exited the barn arm in arm. Any downtime either of them had would be spent with the other, and they wouldn't have had it any other way. In the morning Jon would wait outside her door to escort her to breakfast. There they would eat and enjoy each other's company until it was time for them to attend to their duties. Depending on the day, either Jon would pick her up from her lessons with Septa Mordane, or she would rush to catch the last few minutes of their sparring before loping off to lunch with him. The two found a rare sort of comfort in the other's presence.

For now, life was good to the Starks. Jon and Lys' happiness seemed to have rubbed off on everyone else. Robb was happy to have his friend and brother back, Arya was glad to see them both stop moping, and Ned couldn't contain his smiles whenever he saw his oldest daughter showering his son with the affection he deserved. Even lady Catelyn lightened up considerably. Though she wasn't thrilled her daughter chose to spend all her time with the bastard, she was happy that he was out of her sight, and that Lys was happy. Whatever urges she had to separate the two were squashed when she saw the knowing glances, smiles, and silly faces the two flung at each other.

In a matter of weeks, things that nobody had even thought amiss fell into place.

* * *

Jon was happier than he had been in a long time. As selfish as it was, he was ecstatic that he got to monopolize Lys' time. Not only did he get to spend all his time with her, but a sort of intimacy that he had never even hoped to have with her had taken shape.

She had become his confidant, and him her protector.

They would talk about everything and nothing all at once. Thoughts and feelings they had long since stored in the recesses of their minds were dusted off and brought to light. At night they would lie under the stars or out on the parapets and talk of the gods, family, and future.

But there was one thing he knew he could never discuss with her, and that was his feelings for her.

Sometimes he felt terrible. Lys could be an affectionate girl, and occasionally he felt like he was taking advantage of her kindness. Whenever he saw the opportunity to have physical contact with her, he would take it without hesitation. Sometimes it meant a goodbye hug, or a kiss to the forehead. Other times it would be a short tug on the hair that framed her face, or an arm around her waist. The actions themselves were never inappropriate, but the emotions fueling them were, and he knew it.

He did his best to convince himself that what he was doing was harmless, and that he was just enjoying her while he could. When he was with her The Wall seemed worlds away. In the back of his mind he knew it would not be like this forever, and that one day she would abandon him for her husband, and he would be forced to leave. But for now, he let himself sink deeper into the feelings he had for his sister, and farther into his fantasies.

She was the center of his world.

* * *

She did her best to act like a proper lady, but occasionally she just couldn't be bothered. This was one of those times.

If her mother or Sansa came across her, they were sure to have a cow. The corners of her lips curled at the thought.

Currently Lys was scrunched behind one of the two old stone statues that guarded the back doors to the kitchen. Balancing on her haunches, she peeked through the gaps in the stone and watched the unwitting servants as they ran in and out of the doors shouldering discarded boar carcasses and toting sacks containing bits of congealed blood and bone that were not deemed fit for the Stark dinner table. As a little girl the old stone figures that were currently guarding her from observant eyes, had frightened her. Time and the smoke from the kitchens had long since turned the cold lifeless wolves from their original slate color, into a deep saturated black. To her young eyes they had seemed like the dark, cruel creatures that were said to roam the forests at night in search of weary travelers and innocent children. But now, she couldn't be more thankful for their presence.

She had her eyes on a prize, and she was going to get it, regardless if the soot stained her dark blue dress.

Two days ago, her father left their home on business, and took her eldest brother along for the experience. Jon hadn't said anything to her about it, but she knew that it bothered him more than he would like to let on. Robb might be one of his very closest friends, but that didn't mean it stung any less. Lys knew that Jon had an incredibly difficult time dealing with the fact he was a bastard. He could brush off the whispered words and furtive glances well enough, but the little things always snuck past his mental barriers and rooted in his brain, whether he realized it or not. The reminder that Robb was to be lord, and to see him follow in his father's footsteps and partake in things that Jon would never truly have the opportunity to be involved in, hurt him.

So, she had decided that she would do something special in order to drag his mind away from those thoughts. When the right moment revealed itself, she would spring from her hiding place, sneak into the kitchen, and pack up a special lunch for the two of them.

By the time the hustle and bustle of the servants settled down, Lys' legs were wobbly from the effort of staying crouched in her hiding position. She took a moment to steady herself before she leapt from her position and ducked into the kitchen.

She plucked a basket from the top of a counter, and weaved her way through the rows of tables and cooking stations set up in the room. Since today's lunch had already been prepared, most of the women who usually fluttered around the kitchen were out setting the tables in the dining hall. If they had seen her amongst all the grease and grime they would have clucked at her and shooed her out, but now she had a few moments to pack up a nice basket of food for Jon and herself.

Because they were going to have to ride out to the spot she had in mind, she knew it would be silly to pack any warm meats or stews, so she had to make do with what she could find. The first things she walked past was a fresh baked loaf of black bread sitting on a wooden block. That made its way into her basket along with some butter, cheese, and dried fruit. Next up came some strips of smoked boar and venison that she wrapped up and stowed away. She was about to exit the kitchen when she passed a small pile of pastries stacked on a pewter plate. She had no clue what they were, but they looked incredibly good, so she grabbed two on her way out the door.

Food in hand, she set off to find the last thing she needed for the trip: her brother.

She searched high and low, but had no luck finding him. He wasn't in the training area, around the stables, or waiting for her in the dining hall. So, with one last place in mind, she set off.

* * *

Lys' feet padded softly against the old stone floors as she made her way down the corridor towards Jon's room. She hoped that he was here, because the wicker basket she had been toting around was beginning to get heavy, and she'd rather not have to drag it back across the grounds in search of her brother.

Stopping in front of the heavy wood and wrought iron door, she raised her hand and gave a gentle rap and waited. There was no response. Her lips pulled into a disappointed pout, but she repeated her actions. All was silent save the echo of her fists beating against the door.

Setting the basket besides the door, she took a step back and stared at the door hard. Jon had to be in there, because she had checked practically everywhere else. It wasn't like him to sleep in the middle of the day, either, so she couldn't understand why he wasn't answering. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she contemplated her course of action.

Assuming he truly was in his room, she could be a good sister and let him sleep...

Or she could be an even better sister and go through with her plans.

As slowly as she could, Lys turned the handle of the door and opened it. When she slipped her head through the space between the door and the wall, she saw that candles were lit, and took this as a sign to enter. She placed a tentative foot forward, and slipped in as quietly as she could manage. Basket in hand, she pushed the door back into place with an audible click. She cringed. So much for a surprise.

Turning away from the door, Lys was met with a surprise of her own. Jon hadn't been sleeping at all! Instead he was sitting at his desk not 15 feet from her, scribbling away on something. He made no indication that he had heard his door and her entrance.

"You know Jon, it's rather rude to ignore somewhen when they go through the trouble of knocking on your door"

"You know," she didn't have to see his face to know that he wore a smug smile. "It's rather rude to come barging into someone's room without their permission"

If she didn't know him as well as she did, Lys might have blushed at her boldness. To those who weren't familiar with his sense of humor, he might have seemed less than amused, but she knew he didn't have any issue with her finding him here. If he had, he would have simply locked the door.

"Yes, well, I hope you're not too busy." she started, ignoring his previous statement. She smiled slyly and continued "I have something planned for the two of us."

Jon's hands ceased their writing. She knew she had got his attention then.

He turned in his seat so that he was facing her, giving her his undivided attention. When she did not elaborate, he raised an eyebrow and uttered "Oh?".

Instead of replying, she gave him a wink and crossed to the opposite side of the room. "There's no rush, Jon, please finish up whatever it is you're doing. I'll just make myself comfortable". And with that, she plopped down on his bed and made herself at home.

Jon rolled his eyes and turned back to his work, his indulgent smile lost on Lys as she snuggled into the warm furs. The warmth mixed with the comforting scent of her brother had her drifting off in a matter of minutes.

* * *

It took Jon 20 minutes to finish his letter, and during that time Lys hadn't made so much as a peep. As much as he loved listening to her speak, he was entirely too grateful she was lounging in silence. He didn't need another reminder that she was lying on **_his_** bed, in **_his_** room. It took all his self control to focus on the task at hand instead of leaping out of his chair and on top of her. She had promised him a surprise, and that would have been an excellent one.

Heaving a wistful sigh, he ran his fingers through his curly black locks. He gave himself a minute or two to reign in his thoughts before he pushed himself of his chair and made his way over to Lys.

She was splayed out across his bed, spooning one of his pillows. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as he approached and propped herself up on her elbows, watching him lazily.

_Gods_ He thought, _have mercy_. The contented look on her face was enough to make his head spin, and he had to clear his throat before he began "I thought you came to give me a surprise, not to usurp my bed, sweet sister."

"Well" she took some time to formulate her response. "I had originally planned a nice lunch for us" she started, waving her hand in the direction of the long forgotten wicker basket, "But, I'm rather comfortable where I am". She turned away from him, and buried her head in his pillows. "Maybe we could go tomorrow"

It took a second to register her muffled reply, but when he did he let out an honest chuckle. She was too cute for words, he just couldn't resist.

Jon's lips went from laughing to a wolfish grin in a split-second. Grabbing her by the ankles, he pulled her off the bed and straight into his arms. She gave a girlish squeal, but allowed him his teasing. His muscled arms were around her waist in a minute, and the next she was being tossed over his shoulder like a rag-doll.

One hand snatched up the basket, and the other settled on Lys' lower back before he blew out the candles and made his way to the door.

* * *

The ride out to their destination was a pleasant one. Last month's summer snow had receded, revealing plush carpets of green all around them. Despite being known for its harshness, the north could be just as beautiful as anywhere else.

The pair made their way down the beaten path in relative silence, both just enjoying the other's company. Even at the leisurely pace they were travelling at, it took no time to reach the fork in the road and follow the path down to the small river that snaked its way in and out of the local woods.

The water was still high from the recent water runoff from the snow, so instead of camping out beside the bank, Jon and Lys chose to spread their blanket and lunch out on the top of a small rock outcropping a few hundred yards down the way. It was a bit of a hike, but it was perfect.

The top of the rock had been worn smooth from years of exposure to the elements, creating a sort of rough stepped mesa with an almost flat top that was just high enough to be warmed by the sun that filtered through the trees. The grey of the boulders supporting the seat had not yet been hidden by the moss that was growing around the base, so one could climb easily enough without the worry of slipping. It was high, but not dangerously so, providing a sort of sheltered observation point for those who were observant enough to notice it. It was as if nature herself had conspired with Lys to provide Jon the best spot possible.

Jon tagged behind her as she climbed the small outcropping. Even though she had hiked up her dress far enough to prevent herself from tripping, the thought of her falling and hurting herself was all too real. If she slipped, he wanted to be there to catch her.

Luckily, his fears were unfounded. The pair made reached the top with no mishaps and made themselves comfortable. Lys unfolded a blanket for them to sit on, and spread out the food while he pulled off his riding gear and checked on the horses he tied up below them. After they both finished, they sat and ate.

Conversation came easy, ebbing and flowing naturally as they chewed on their bread and butter. The sunlight warming their faces and the food filling their stomachs put them in good moods. Being away from Winterfell pulled their minds from their responsibilities; Jon did not think about his father, brothers, and future. Lys did not think about her mother, sisters, or duties. They just enjoyed themselves.

* * *

After Lys finished her food, she drew in a deep breath. The earthy smell of the soil and the steady beating of the river was putting her to sleep just as fast as lying on Jon's bed had. Pushing herself up with some effort, she meandered over by the ledge.

They were not too far up, but it was a beautiful sight nonetheless. She kneeled down to peer over the edge, and after a few seconds of just looking, she worked her way onto her stomach so that she was perpendicular to the ledge. She was propped up on her elbows, body flush against the hard rock. In this position she could comfortable incline her neck and survey her surroundings without fear of falling.

Her movements were not lost on Jon. When he saw her get so close to the edge, his heart jumped. He was relieved when she settled down in a safer position. She was stubborn, and he knew that barking at her would not have the intended effect. So, instead of telling her to move away, he came to her.

Jon laid beside her, meeting her right shoulder with his left, and let out a contented sigh. The sun wrapped his figure in a veil of warmth, and he let himself decompress. Being this close to her and this far away from his problems was just what he had needed to brush off the hard feelings he had been carrying.

By the time he pulled himself from his thoughts, Lys had made her forearms into pillows. Her head was turned to him, but her eyes were closed. Her long lashes fell heavily against her soft cheeks in time with the steady breaths slipping from her pink lips.

He didn't know if she was sleeping or resting, but he found that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. His sister was so naturally beautiful, it hurt. She didn't need to wear flashy clothing and gaudy jewelry to garner attention like they did in the south. Her blue eyes were gems enough, her bright smile and smooth skin just as fine as any silk dress. The way she held herself, and her infinite patience and kindness to him were as solid and telling as any noble lady's accessories.

To him, she was perfect. And he knew that his opinion would never change. He didn't have to have experience with women to know that he loved his sister. Regardless of what anyone said, he knew that his feelings were real, and that they would not disappear with time. His emotions were blunt, plain, and unrefined. He loved her straightforwardly, without complexities or pride. He knew no other way. At times his feelings for her were so tangible, he could almost hold them in his hands.

The steady rise and fall of her chest drew his eyes to soft swell of her breasts, where they lingered before following the gentle slope of her neck. He traced her jaw line down to where it met her small chin, and from here to her flower petal lips. They looked so soft and sweet. He couldn't help but wonder what they tasted like. Like the dried fruit she had been eating an hour before? Or perhaps honey and rose?

With these thoughts in mind, he leant in slowly and brushed his lips against hers. They barely touched hers in a tender kiss before he drew away, eyes lidded.

She didn't move. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn't press his luck. She was asleep. It was wrong.

But this could be his only chance.

The second kiss was just as light and tentative as the first. The third was more firm, and the fourth was hard enough to wake her.

Lys' eyes snapped open, and locked with Jon's desperate ones. At first, all she could do was blink, and try to clear the sleep from her eyes. She was confused, her lips felt heavy and warm, and she had no clue what was going on around her. When she realized Jon's lips had domain of hers, she reeled back.

Jon felt her pulling away from him, and he reacted instinctively. Instead of letting her recoil from him, his hands flew to her head. One grabbed a fistful of auburn hair and jerked her back onto his lips harshly, and the other held her cheek so that she could not turn her head and break the kiss.

His sudden actions send Lys' mind racing. Everything was here, and now, and she couldn't slow it down enough to grasp her current situation. Jon was kissing her? Her hands instinctively moved to Jon's and tugged. If she could just pry them off of her, she would be able think. If he would just stop, she could do something, say something.

But his lips wouldn't let her.

The kiss had long since turned from sweet and gentle to tongue and teeth, and the intensity of it had her cheeks flaming, and Jon's breathing labored. It is only when he broke their connection to breath that she managed to get out a word of protest.

"Jon!"

His name grabs his attention, though not in the way she had intended. To his ears, the sound of her voice is more like a breathy plea than a protest. In a matter of seconds she's flat on her back underneath him. The cool rock contrasts sharply with Jon's heated skin, and it made her dizzy. Jon straddled her waist and wrestled her hands away from his, all the while kissing Lys senseless. His lips were rough, and his facial hair scratched her cheek as he worshiped her lips with his. It had an odd feeling pooling in her abdomen, balancing on the thin line between disgust and arousal.

The realization that she was returning the unwanted kiss, from her own brother no less, caused angry tears to cascade down her cheeks and a choked sob escape her bruised lips.

It was the feeling of her tears against his cheek that had Jon stopping his assault. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach, and his heart clenched at the sight of his sister.

_**But he couldn't help it! Couldn't she see that? He needed her.**_

The regret he felt for taking advantage of her battled closely against his innate need to have her to himself. He kept his weight on her, effectively pinning her in place, but removed his lips from hers.

Lys struggled to catch her breath, chest heaving with the strain of all that's happened. Her tears slowed, and her hands fought for purchase against the stone beneath her. "J-jon, w-what are yo-you, wh-why!?"

He ignored her in favor of burying his sweaty face in the crook of her neck. His lips are left gentle nips and open mouth kisses between his repeated 'I love you's and 'please, Lys's.

"J-jon!"

"Please let me, please!" he begged, dropping kisses to her collar bone. He wouldn't give in and let go. Lys had kissed back, even if it was only for a few seconds, and that meant something to him. That had to mean something. He knew that somewhere inside her she had to hold just a fraction of the same feelings he held for her. He wouldn't accept anything less.

Finally releasing her neck, he moved back and placed his head against hers. Jon's eyes did not shy away when they met hers. "I love you".


	4. In jest or in earnest?

**AN:** Alright. So with the airing of Jon's "dirty laundry" we are now set to gradually merge with the official GoT/ASOIAF plotline. Within the next three chapters this should be happening! Though, as Lys is an original character and a member of the Stark family, there will be some changes to the plot. For now, nothing too drastic will change, so no worries :) We'll see where we are in the future. Each chapter is as much a surprise to you guys, as it is to me.

Also, I'd like to thank those who have taken the time to review. Specifically, Im sending this shout out to Andie, whose review has kicked my butt into gear, and to the anon who noted that I write very emotionally. I think that is one of the best compliments I have ever received. If I can convey even a shadow of the emotion I aim to create between my lovely bbys Lys and Jon, then I'm ecstatic. I reallyreallyreally want you all to understand how they are feeling, so that you are able to understand their actions and connect to them on some sort of deeper level.

And... do any of you find the formatting difficult to read? If so, please let me know how to change it. It's been nagging me.

Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

**Recap**: Finally releasing her neck, he moved back and placed his head against hers. Jon's eyes did not shy away when they met hers. "I love you".

* * *

She was torn between laughing and sobbing. The first because of the sheer absurdity of the situation she was now in, and the latter because she knew he was telling the truth.

_Where had it gone wrong? When?_ she couldn't help but wonder as she stared at her brother. Lys felt a strange feeling of calm and clarity despite her current situation._ It must be the shock._

"I love you Lys. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve better than this." She didn't know if he was apologizing for what he did, or for the way he felt.

She said nothing, so he continued. "I took advantage of you. What I did was reprehensible. I'm so sorry." He didn't even bother asking for her forgiveness. He knew that even if she could accept it, he didn't deserve it.

Her voice was worn from her crying, and it cracked slightly as she spoke. "Jon". "Gods what have I done?" He ran his hands through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Jon, please listen to-"

"NO! No. You listen to me. Please, just listen. I can't do this anymore, Lys. I won't do this anymore. I love you, and I can't continue to pretend that I don't." Despite his bold words, he was feeling anything but. He wished he could make her understand, to explain, but he just couldn't. Nothing he said could fix this. The way she was looking at him was ripping him apart. Her eyes looked as tortured as he felt. "Just, please."

"Please what Jon?" Lys was becoming angry. "Please what? What do you want from me? What do you expect me to say, to do? You're my brother, for god's sake!"

Jon didn't know what he was asking, he just knew what he wanted. Her.

Her frustrated words and harsh tone immediately put him on edge. By the time she had finished speaking, he had sprung to his feet and began pacing. His emotions quickly shifted from fear and dejection to anger.

"Let me."_ Let him_. The words rung in her ears. _How could he ask me that?_

"Let you what?" came her pointed response. She was up, and meeting him head on now. "Do you have any idea of what you're asking me Jon? Even if I, even if I let you" She started. "Even if I let you love me, what good would come of it? What could you possibly hope to gain from this? We can't be married, can't have children. What would mother and father say, what would everyone say? You're my brother. You've always been my brother. I love you Jon, Gods, I really do. But I'm not in love with you."

Her words struck him harder than any physical blow could. He had dreaded hearing those very words since he had come to terms with his feelings some three years prior. He knew she didn't love him. But for her to say so to his face, to throw his feelings back at his feet. His heart was breaking.

The minute the words left her lips, Lys felt horrible. She knew she had been harsh, but these things needed to be said.

That didn't alleviate the guilt she felt, or the look of complete desolation on Jon's face. He looked as if his very soul had been crushed. She knew that his previous actions and his feelings for her were inappropriate, but at that moment she couldn't help terribly responsible for all his suffering.

She was just as much at fault as he was, she thought. How could she have missed this? Looking back, it was so obvious. So painfully obvious, and she hadn't noticed. All the hugs that lasted just a few seconds longer than they should have, all the affection he showered her with. The way his lips lingered on her forehead and his fingers in her hair. He had practically told her. Jon wasn't this affectionate with anyone. And she took advantage of it. Received it without a thought, and gave it back with no hesitation. How could she be so self-involved as to miss this?

She had lead him on. She must have.

"Jon, I'm sorry, I didn't me-" "No. You meant it. And you're right". His voice was barely a whisper. "I can't give you anything. You'll marry a lord and live a life of luxury. I won't have land, or esteem, or power. I'm just a bastard. Even if you did love me, if we did marry" his voice was louder now, and heavy with emotion "even if you gave me children" he trailed off, unshed tears in his eyes. "All you could ever be is a bastard's wife, you deserve better than that."

Jon's words tore down the walls she had erected around herself. The angry barriers she had created crumbled, and it was then she knew she would do anything to make him happy, to take away his pain. He didn't deserve this. He hadn't done anything to deserve any of this. He deserved to be a lord, to have love, to be happy and look forward to the future.

"Oh Jon" Lys' voice was saturated understanding and sadness. She took a few tentative steps toward him. "I don't want your pity." She stopped. "Jon, I couldn't make you happy even if things were different. You say that I deserve better, but that's not true." her voice was as soft and light as a breeze. "You are a wonderful man, and you make me so happy. But its you who deserve someone better. I'm just a silly girl. One day you'll find a strong women who will stand behind you, who will make you truly happy. A women that you really love, and who loves you in return."

Lys had intended to soothe Jon with her words, but they seemed to have the opposite effect.

She was doubting the sincerity of his feelings for her, and it made his blood boil and his teeth grind. She sought to downplay his love for her, to make this into something that could be brushed off and tucked away, forgotten. But it couldn't be. She said he was a wonderful man, but she did not want him. She said that he deserved better, but there were none! Lys was the woman he truly loved.

"Let me prove it" "W-what?" "Let me prove that I love you, that you're all I want." "Jon, I know you l-" She tried to reassure him, but he cut her off. "I don't think you do, Lys. You're far from a silly girl, but you're acting like one now." He forced out, throwing her own words back in her face. "Just let me try." He was pleading with her now, and she didn't know if she had the strength to turn him away again.

"I'm not asking you to love me. I don't expect you to throw your life away for me, but just give me this. Give me a moment of happiness before I leave. I can't pretend I don't love you Lys. We both know things can never be as they were."

"I'm not sure I know what you're asking of me" came her frustrated retort.

"I won't touch you without your permission. I won't ask anything of you. Just let me love you. Give me a chance at happiness, nevermind how temporary."

All Lys wanted was Jon's happiness. It was naive to think that she could play pretend with Jon for a while just to see him smile, but she was considering it. Really, what other choice did she have? If she said no, if she turned him away? Things would be worse than they were when she stumbled upon him in the hallway. Her best friend and brother would go back to ignoring her and wallowing in misery and self-hatred. If she said yes, he would be happy. She wouldnt be, but that didn't matter. It would only be for a while, she told herself. He said he wouldn't touch her without her permission. He just wanted to be near her, and to be open with her. That couldn't be terrible. He promised he wouldn't kiss her again without asking her first. She didn't know how she felt about that. It hadn't been too terrible, but she didn't think she could knowingly kiss him again, even if his lips felt nice against hers.

That thought worried her. She needed to sort all of this out, but she couldn't with Jon standing in front of her, waiting for an answer.

"What would mother and father say?" She desperately tried to convince both herself and Jon that this would not work. "It's nobody's business but ours, Lys. Just you and I, nobody else."

"Alright". He had swatted away her last defense, and she didnt have the energy to keep fighting him. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. "We can keep it private, even Robb and Arya won't know" "Yes" "We don't have to sp-"

"I said yes Jon, please. Just stop."

In his hurry to reassure Lys, he hadn't noticed she gave her consent. Frankly, he was dumbfounded. He had expected her to turn him away, or even slap him for suggesting such an idea.

When he finally grasped that she had agreed to give him a chance, he grinned like a child. His eyes lightened up considerably, and he couldn't stop himself from drawing her into a tight embrace. His good mood was dampened a bit when her form went rigid in his arms, but his smile stayed in place. Tenderly, he brushed his hands through her hair, and guided her head to his lips. With a gentle kiss to the crown, he released her and took a step back. He had just gotten her, and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off.

Lys' heart was just as heavy as her conscience. She had thought that agreeing to her brother's terms would make her feel better, but it had only made her feel worse. She knew that she was leading him on even further, and that she should have put a stop to this the moment it happened, but she couldn't take it back now. What was done, was done, and now she had to live with the consequences.

* * *

For a week, Lys and Jon traversed the thin line between lovers and friends. She had become a bit more accustomed to going along with what Jon wanted, but she still felt uncomfortable with her new role. She wasn't sure she'd ever be okay with it. It wasn't that he asked too much of her, or even that it was unpleasant. It was just very odd. Her whole life she had seen Jon as her loving brother, and now that had changed. He was a man, and he was set on courting her.

Nothing he said or did went unnoticed by Lys. She realized that her previous lack of awareness was to blame for everything, and now she couldn't help but be hyper-aware of his presence. Every brush of his skin against hers caused her heart to clench and every word from his lips set her on edge. She would let Jon hug her, but she just couldn't relax. He hadn't tried to go any further and she was thankful.

Lys knew that she was closing Jon out, like she had begged him not to do to her, but It was so hard.

The subject of Lys' inner struggle had problems of his own as well. As happy as he was that he was no longer forced to hide his emotions and that he could be freely affectionate with her, he was also very hurt that Lys had started to pull away from him. It seemed the times in which Jon and Lys had been happy together had long since left. Now, she prefered to be alone. They still spent time together, but she wasnt the same comfortable and carefree women he knew her as.

He didn't blame her, though. Jon knew she was trying for him, and that warmed him in a way no fire could. In time he felt that he could win her over, and prove to her that he loved her unconditionally. She just needed to become comfortable with the change, and realize that she could trust him with her heart, mind, and body.

* * *

Jon found Lys in the library.

Oftentimes she would retreat into the silent and musty room to get some peace and quiet. Earlier this morning, Arya and Sansa had been bickering more than usual, and she was at her wits end. She loved them both, but they got on her nerves faster than anyone she knew.

She liked to think of them as extreme versions of herself. She was capable of being as passionate and adventurous as the littlest shewolf, but her sister had never learned any decorum. Sansa was quite the opposite. Always set on being a lady, she was very rigid and judgemental when others failed to act in accordance to her values. Lys knew she could be just as bad at times, but she knew that she was a girl. Acting like a lady was important, but so was being yourself.

These and other thoughts melded and swirled in her mind as she skimmed the pages of her book. Her time in the library was something she cherished. She could ignore everyone for an hour or two and just think.

Her musing was interrupted by Jon's arrival. She finished the page she was on before peering over the rim of her book at Jon. She was a bit irritated that he had interrupted her reading, but his genuine smile melted it away. For all her worrying and doubt about their situation, she had to admit that he did his best to give her space and make her feel as comfortable as possible.

"Hello Jon." she closed her book and gave him her full attention.

Jon knew he was interrupting her, but he hadn't seen her since breakfast, and it was now past noon. He had been thinking about her all morning, and had resolved to spend some quality time together.

"Lys" his hands gestured to an unseen corner away from the table she was currently seated at. The tall rows of bookshelves blocked her view, but she understood what he was silently asking her. Nodding her head, she pushed herself up from the table and made her way down the long aisles of books. Jon arm slipped around hers, and she allowed him to steer her into the private nook her father had ordered built for her 8th name day. It was a small, cozy room set back into the foundations of the library. It was far from the sections that were frequented by most.

It was the same place that Jon had read her books when she was younger. The pair had last visited it weeks before the day of Jon's confession, and not since. This would be the first time that Jon and Lys were truly alone. Though Jon had had tender moments with her over the past week, he really hadn't had time to just enjoy her company.

Jon ushered her to the plush sofa, and set about making a small fire to warm the two of them. After this task was completed he made himself comfortable on the other side of the couch, giving Lys enough space to make herself comfortable.

He loved watching her almost as much as touching her. She was curled up on the other end of the couch, her knees raised and feet folded beside her. On her lap was some book of the moment, and she was wearing a simple grey dress. She was always so precious, especially when she was reading. Jon loved the way she gave all her attention to the book. When she hit a word she didn't know, or a difficult passage, her eyes would narrow and her eyebrows would pull together just the tiniest bit. Her lips would purse for a minute or two until she grasped what was being said, and then all the tension in her face would just drop, and she would be content again.

He wished she would pay him that kind of attention.

"Lys, come here." "What do you mean here? I'm right beside you." She replied, half cheekily. She had an inclining what he meant.

"Please." Jon patted his knee. "I want you to come sit with me." He knew he was testing the waters, and hoped that she'd humor him. He wouldn't push if she said no, though. "Jon..." Lys was hesitant, but not one hundred percent turned off by the idea. He was always warm and comfortable, and she had missed the intimacy the two had shared. She wasn't sure what this meant though. She didn't want him to think that just because she cuddled with him, that she loved him and that he could take it any further.

He must have been reading her thoughts, because not a second after extending the invitation he clarified the what-ifs and buts that had been tumbling around her thoughts.

"I just want to hold you. That's all." She shifted around a bit as she thought. It would be a step for them, she knew. She wasn't comfortable with it, but for Jon's sake she would try.

She stretched her legs and marked her place before closing her book and half crawling over to where he was seated. She reached his side and fiddled around a bit, unsure how to go about sitting in his lap. Sensing her hesitance, he moved his hands to her hips and turned her around before gently tugging her onto his lap. He leaned back and spread his legs further apart so that she would have room to sit comfortably before his arms encircled her waist and pulled her against his chest.

Jon was just as warm as she knew he would be, but it was still difficult to make herself comfortable. After some awkward shifting around in his lap, she nestled her self under the curve of his neck so that the side of her cheek was pressed against the leather of the vest. She could hear the quick beat of his heart even through the smooth barrier.

Once she had made herself comfortable and reclaimed her book, she returned to reading. Lys was surprised to realize that she was genuinely enjoying her time with Jon. His embrace is less brotherly, and more tender than she was used to, but it didn't bother her much.

When he had asked her to sit in his lap, she had expected to feel uncomfortable and perhaps even like he was taking advantage of her, but she didn't. Instead the anxiety that was festering in her gut uncoiled, and her shoulders lost their stiffness. All too quickly the pair found themselves in a comfortable, un-forced silence.

They sat like this for a long while, Jon simply content to hold her and stroke her hair absentmindedly. When he got tired of that he gently shifted her into a more upright position and rested his chin atop her head. From there he could just make out the handwritten words on the old pages she was perusing before she turned them. When she realized that he had taken interest in her book, she slowed her reading and allowed him time to finish the lines before flipping them.

By the time dinner came they had finished the book and Lys had fallen asleep.


	5. Out of the woods

**A/N:**

First off I just wanted to apologize for all the spelling and grammar mistakes in the past chapters. I went back and fixed everything I saw. I don't have any sort of Beta reader, so It's bound to happen. I'm sure you'll see more of it in the future. Hopefully It doesn't scare you off :p

I hope this chapter isn't too boring. Let me just say reading fanfics is more fun than writing them. If anyone knows any good Robb fics, please let me know!

Also, this will be the last chapter posted for about a week and a half! I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, and I won't have internet access. But when I get back, you guys can look forward to some borderline Jon & Lys sexy time, assuming you guys don't think it's too fast for that. I'm on the fence, personally.

* * *

Lys let out an appreciative hiss as she lowered herself into the steaming water. Rolling out the kinks in her shoulders, she let herself sink down to her chin. Living in Winterfell had its perks, and the natural hot springs were one of them.

The scuffling of footsteps caused Lys to crack her eyes open. Steam from her bath rolled from the surface of the water, swirling up and out of view, obscuring her line of sight. Even with the multitude of candles placed around the room, it was heavy and dark, and incredibly relaxing.

"M'lady, I've come to wash your hair." A wrinkly maid who could have passed for Old Nan's sister set down her box of soaps and scented oils, and carefully lowered herself into a sitting position just behind Lys' head. She could see the blue veins running through the thin skin in the spinster's knobby hands.

"Thank you, Gran." Lys wasn't familiar with this particular woman, but she could tell she had served their family for a long time.

"Of course M'lady. If it pleases, I'll start." Skilled hands lathered auburn locks and tugged out knots. She was not gentle, and each quick jerk of her hand had her fighting to keep her head in a stationary position. Lys' hair had been a particular mess this day. She had spent all morning and afternoon digging around the dirty back rooms of the castle in search of all sorts of obscure and unimportant items that were only needed when they were having a large amount of company.

Last night at dinner, her father and mother officially announced the impending arrival of the king and his company. Her mother had wasted no time in sending servants about to clear the rooms and cook food. Somehow she had managed to get caught in the chaos.

She almost regretted offering to help her mother prepare.

Almost.

Her mind temporarily forgot the punishment being inflicted on her scalp when her thoughts turned back to the day's events.

* * *

Lys wasn't sure what was worse: the dust and cobwebs sitting in her nose and clogging her throat, or the burning she felt in her arms and shoulders. They worked well as a pair.

For the past 4 hours she had been opening crates and boxes in search of some specific items her mother wanted handled gently. For all her effort she had found just one: the bedding that would be used for the King's bed.

Half of the room's crates had been unstacked, opened, searched, resealed, and reorganized. After going through the first 10 she knew she should have tracked down Hodor when she had the chance. She would have asked for help, but it seemed everyone else was just as busy, if not more.

She pulled out her 7th pair of matching candlesticks before sighing and placing them rather unceremoniously in the pile beside her. They weren't the ones she was looking for.

Returning to the box, Lys pulled out a pile of assorted china dishes, a broken statue, three more candlesticks, and a woven baby blanket before repacking them neatly and placing the lid back on. She straightened herself back up before clapping her hands together to rid them of the dust.

She had nearly killed herself trying to pull this box off the top of another, it was so heavy. It would have to be pushed over into the corner of the room with the rest of the boxes she couldn't lift.

That said, she blew a few strands of her now filthy hair from her face and braced her hands against the side. She shifted her center of balance onto her hands and gave a hard shove.

The box didn't move.

Her fingers flexed against the lip of the crate, and she gave it another try. The already abused muscles in her arms screamed, but she managed to slide it an inch further than it had been previously.

It was going to be a long, frustrating day.

Lys quickly decided that this wasn't going to work, no matter how much she wanted it to. She sat down on the wooden lid to catch her breath, and that's when she had an idea. Instead of using her arms, she would just have to use her legs.

She shimmied her backside to the spot her hands had been occupying previously. Sliding her legs out before her, she bent so that she was in a nearly sitting position, the very top of the side of the large box resting against the small of her back. Giving herself a great push, she managed to propel the two of them a sizeable distance before the sound of laughter interrupted her focus.

"What are you doing, silly girl?" Her brother couldn't hide his mirth if he tried. "I'm not a silly girl Jon! I'm working." she replied without looking at him. Lys was a bit embarrassed she was caught rolling around in the dirt. "You are, are you? And how's that...working for you?" He laughed at his little play on words before walking through the door and closing it behind him.

"Admittedly? Not so well" she acquiesced. "Its a bit heavy." Before she could get out more the box was on Jon's shoulders and making its way over to its brethren.

"You didn't knock." Lys remarked, defeated. He dropped the load, and began to stack the rest of the crates his half-sister couldn't quite manage.

"Perhaps I'm spending too much time with you" he joked, smile tugging at his lips. She matched his grin with her own. "Thank you" she said quite sincerely, before following up with "for helping me that is. Not for implying I have no manners. I should hit you for that." "Much good that would do you. You could barely move that box. Your chances of hurting me are slim."

"Is that right?" It wasn't a real question. She stalked towards him slowly, eyeing him up and down. They both knew she wouldn't be able to get at him without Jon allowing her to. Likewise, they both knew he would. That didn't mean she would get away with it though.

The moment before she made to slap his arm, he moved. His hands sprung faster than arrows from a bow, and in seconds he had Lys in a bear hug, effectively immobilizing her and foiling her assault. Pouting, she pulled her head from his chest and rested her chin on his shoulder, suddenly shy. "Thank you, Jon, for being here for me. Not just this time. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

Jon said nothing in reply. When Lys looked up she half expected to see a cheeky grin, but instead she was greeted by the opposite. His eyes seemed far away, and his teasing smile had dropped. His sudden change worried her.

"Jon?"

"I love you Lys." "I know." she muttered against him. "I know."

"Can I kiss you?" She hesitated for a moment before replying. "...please."

* * *

A sudden deluge of water pulled Lys from her thoughts and back into reality. It stung her eyes and burnt her cheeks as it cascaded down her hair and face to her shoulders before returning from whence it came. "M'lady, I've finished. Do you require assistance being washed?"

"No. Thank you Gran. It's late, and you must be tired. Please leave me." "Of course M'lady." The old beldam gathered the objects she brought with her and hobbled out of sight, leaving her alone.

She ran her fingers through her newly clean hair and released a contemplative sigh. She noticed she had been doing that a lot lately. Being with Jon had changed the way she looked at some things, and the way she felt about others. The kiss earlier that afternoon had proven that fact.

Lys ran her fingers over her lips as she stared at in the darkness above her, head tilted back. The hot water had made them tender, and her fingertips created a soft tingle not too unlike the one she had experienced when Jon's lips swept against hers. The only difference was the feeling she had experienced with her half-brother was ten times more intense.

He had been so gentle with her, that she found herself disappointed when it was over. It was very different from the first kiss they shared. _If all their kisses were that way_ she thought_ then perhaps I'd like to do it again._

She wondered what this meant for them.

* * *

"Dear, I need you to go to into Winter Town and take care of a few things for me." "Of course mother." Lys was not going to miss the opportunity to leave the walls of Winterfell and escape all the fuss and pomp put up for their visitors.

"Thank you Lys." Having her daughter around to help with the arrangements made her life just the littlest bit easier, and she was grateful. This wasn't exactly what either of them wanted to be doing. Even her husband didn't want to deal with the King now, as close as he claimed they were.

"You won't be going alone, of course." Catelyn loved her oldest daughter dearly, and while it was obvious she was a Stark, she didn't want to risk any mishaps. Her daughter was a true beauty, and she needed to be protected.

"You'll take Robb with you. I need a special package picked up from the metalsmith's, and I don't want any of the servants to handle it. In addition, you'll also have to stop at the miller's house and place an order for an additional 70 pounds of flour." The gears were turning in Lady Catelyn's head as she ran through the list if innumerable tasks she needed done. "And while you're there, have Robb stop at the tavern and ask about how many hands they can send. We're going to need more help with all this company."

Lys nodded and assured her mother that her and Robb would take care of what she asked. "Robb!" Catelyn called out "Robb!" her hands made their way to her hips. "I swear I saw him not a minute ago." Seeing her mother's overwhelmed countenance, she placated her by hailing a nearby servant and requesting they locate Robb. As quickly as he set off, Robb was brought to them and they exited the gates on horseback.

The first placed they stopped was the mill. It was the furthest away, but most convenient if they were going to make a round trip. The old man who ran the business was out, so they talked to his wife. She was pleasant enough, and they were able to place their order quickly when they promised a prompt payment upon the delivery of the flour they needed.

The ride from the mill into town took about a half hour, and Lys and Robb used the time to catch up.

"Where have you been hiding these days, Lys? I feel as though I hardly see you anymore."

"I haven't changed my schedule, Robb, You have!" Lys rolled her eyes but continues. "I still eat breakfast at the same time every morning, attend my lessons, and then spend the afternoons riding or in the library with Jon. Everything is the same."

What she said was relatively true. Jon and Lys really had fallen back into their usual routine, but it wasn't the same. They were a tentative couple, and they acted like it now. The familiarity of breakfast, and lessons, and afternoon activities had given her enough reassurance to leave her comfort zone without feeling like she had been cast out to sea. Weeks ago they never would have kissed. She wouldn't have sat in his lap, or fell asleep against his chest while they read. She wouldn't have blushed when he kissed her brow, either.

"Jon must be stealing you away then. I always knew he was your favorite." Lys sputtered and blushed. The unwitting double meaning behind his words sent her heart racing, and she was overwhelmed by the sudden fear everyone knew. "Don't deny it!" Robb chuckled, mistaking her horror as mock embarrassment. It was plain to see that Jon and Lys were closest with each other out of all the members in the Stark family.

Lys' poor heart failed her, and she couldn't formulate a response that didn't sound obvious to her ears. She settled on a "Robb, that's terrible!", but did not deny his claim. He just clucked at her and kicked his horse forward. "Don't get worked up, I'm just joking."

The rest of the ride was spent in relative silence, and she was glad. It took the whole remaining 15 minutes to drain the blush from her face and slow her beating heart.

* * *

Robb was the first to dismount his horse. He grabbed the reigns of both his and Lys' and walked them to a stable hand before helping her down. He gave the boy a coin, and walked out the door with Lys trailing closely behind.

Winter Town was not so much a town, as it was a line of shacks and homes that people sold handmade goods out off. Here and there you could find a specialty store, like the butcher and baker, and the metalsmith. There was one main road that everyone travelled up and down, and at the very far end from where they were standing was the tavern. It was an old, wooden building that had seen many winters. Like the north, the outside was rather plain and cold, but inside was warm and there were enough spirits for all who wanted them.

Lys made quick work of picking up the package. The man who ran the smith saw her tully hair and dress weaving through the crowd, and had it ready upon her arrival. Her mother had the foresight to pay before hand, so Lys' pockets were pleasantly heavy.

With that taken care of, the pair set out to finish the last task that needed to be attended to before they could return home. "Lys, I want you to stay across the street a bit, in the bakery." "What? Why!" At this point she was just arguing on principle. She was tired of dealing with all these people. At least with Robb there, he would've taken care of all the talking. "Why? Because a tavern is no place for a lady, especially a Stark. They're full of drunk men, especially this early in the afternoon."

"Fine. Just hurry back, alright?" "From your lips to the God's ears, Lys."

She made her way to the bakery as Robb had requested, and opened the rickety door. The interior was surprisingly tidy, if not a bit cluttered. There were shelves lining three of the wooden walls, and in the back there was an old brick oven set against stone. Loafs of bread were stacked in piles and pot pies were placed on shelves. The cold weather of the north helped to prevent food from spoiling, and Lys guessed this was how they managed to amass such a stockpile.

She didn't see anyone managing the counter in the front, and if they were, then they were hidden well enough behind piles of dough and bags of flour that they wouldn't notice her entry. She had time to waste so she walked around the room, stopping to inspect things here and there. For the crudeness of the shop, the bread didn't look bad.

Perusing the shop entertained her for about ten minutes before she gave up trying to be interested and let her mind wander. First she thought of Robb, and wondered how long he would take to make his inquiries. From there her thoughts touched on their ride, and what he had said to her. She didn't know what she would do if anyone found about her and Jon. Jon. She wondered what he was doing now. He was probably helping Bran with his archery or helping father to set up for the king's arrival too. Perhaps he was looking for her.

All of a sudden, she found herself wishing that Jon had come with her to town instead of Robb. She loved him, but what Robb said was right. Jon was her favorite, and if he had came along this would have been an adventure, not a chore.

"Thoose'ur thee eyes of a gurl in luf, if've evur seen em'." Lys raised the aforementioned eyes and was met with a startling sight. In front of her was a fat, middle-aged women who'd ancestors might have been giants. Or trolls.

She had fleshy cheeks half hidden by shaggy brown hair, and an ample bosom nearly falling out her stained dress. She would have been quite intimidating if her smile hadn't been so big. Despite missing her two front teeth, she wore an expression of such contentment that her face lit up a room like a torch.

"I-I'm sorry?"

The women guffawed at her, her breasts nearly jumping out of her bodice. Her head was thrown back, and mouth stretched wide enough Lys could see her brown gums. Lys wasn't sure what was so funny.

"N'uh need ta' play coy wif me sweetlin', I 'ore th'sme pair win I waz ur'age."

"You must be mistaken" Lys choked out, surprised. _Was everyone out to get her today?_

"Sweetlin', thur's n'uh need ta be shy wif me now!" she cajoled "Was is' name?" she didn't allow her enough time to respond before she continued "Well, tha' dun' matter anywhich' ways. I waz n'luf onze whin' I waz ah younglin'." she began, ushering Lys over to the counter she had been avoiding. She tried to interrupt politely, but the lady was having none of it.

"Is name'as Ulrik. S' a rite big oaf, h'waz. Murri'd m'sistur." Her thick arms muscled through the piles on the wooden counter top until she found what she was searching for. "Tha'wuz b'fore I sturt'd thiz'ere shop." She collected the box and walked around the end of the counter, dragging Lys behind her unwillingly. "She's bin' dead fer' tin n' fer years nuh'. Now'es murri'd ta' me!"

Lys wondered if she had judged this women wrongly. Maybe she wasn't as sweet as she had originally seemed. Her toothless smile was so wide, it was beginning to seem a bit off. Especially when she talked about her sister's death.

Man'still a rite big oaf, buh I luv'em. Won'em over wif m'bakin', I 'id. She rifled under the counter before pulling out a beaten basket. She practically tore open the top in excitement, and held it out so Lys could inspect the contents.

"Now'hat I'm sayin' her'is tha ya' can't jus'it arund'n way't fer em'. I'got lucky, I id'. Ya shur'these hur cakes wif' ur'man, n' win' em over jus' like I id'. Ya' tel'em how ya' feel na'."

The pastries had been neatly packaged in the old box that was shoved unceremoniously into Lys' hands.

"I couldn't possibly-" "Nuh' nuh', nuh' buts'n scus's. Now off'wif ya'. G'on n' tel'em."

"Thank you for your kindness." After a stiff thank you, and a surprise "good luck" hug from the owner of the bakery, Lys left. She had been crass, but very thoughtful. Perhaps it was because she was one of the Stark children.

Not one minute after leaving the shop, she spotted Robb walking towards her and rushed to meet him.

"You bought something from the bakery, then?" he reached his hand to lift the lid of the box, but it was smacked away by his sister. "Don't!" "You're not going to share with your second favorite brother?" She ignored his comment and scrambled to make up a suitable excuse. "Mother forgot to tell us to stop here. It seems she had some pastries special ordered. Must be a surprise. I'll give them to her. Best not mention it again, wouldn't want to give it away and upset her!" It didn't really make any sense, but it'd have to do.

"Fair enough. I'd rather not have her come after me."

* * *

"You took Robb with you to town?" he grunted. "Is that a question, or a statement Jon?"

Her brother was not in the joking mood, and neither was she. It had been a long, hard day for the both of them. Jon had been up excruciatingly early to help the men hunt, and Lys had played the loyal dog for her mother, fetching whatever it was she required.

"What?" she bristled when he ignored her in favor of sending her an unamused look. "You were out anyways! Don't look at me as if I purposely ignored you, you couldn't have come regardless."

Lys hadn't known that Jon had been out at the time she left with Robb, but she wasn't about to admit that now. "We could have left tomorrow. The king won't arrive for another three days yet. I don't want you leaving Winterfell without me."

She shifted the box in her hands so that she could place one hand on her hips.

"Mother asked me to take care of it today, Jon, so I did. I didn't have much say in the matter." When he wouldn't back down, she rolled her eyes and bit out "What? I was just spending some time with Robb! Jealous I'm spending time with my other brother? Afraid he'll fall in love with me too?"

She hadn't meant to say what she did, but he didn't have any right to order her around and try to make her feel guilty for doing something without him. She loved him, but she was not about to play domesticated pet. She was a wolf, not a dog.

Jon's face contorted into a look of pain at her remarks. "I wasn't jealous!" His large hands ran through his thick curly black hair.

"I don't like not knowing where you are. I expected to see you waiting at the gates for us"_ for him_ he thought "when we returned. Instead Lady Stark says you're outside the safety of Winterfell, traipsing around in town. You could have been hurt."

It was like he knew how to disarm her. Jon Snow had the terrible ability of manipulating her emotions, she decided. She wasn't sure if it was something he did on purpose, or if she truly felt bad because she knew she was wrong. She knew she was wrong for yelling at him, and for kissing him earlier. It didn't always feel wrong though.

Lys made sure that no one was around them before placing the box of pastries she had been holding on the ground beside her feet. The moment she had reentered Winterfell, Jon had accosted her and dragged her away from the prying eyes of people, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be careful.

He followed her actions warily, unsure if she was going to run from him, or was preparing to unleash her pent up frustration.

Straightening her spine, she marched up to Jon and gave him a weak shove, followed by a tight hug. He returned it, entangling Lys with his arms and pulling her closer than she thought possible. Neither would say it today, but they both regretted being cross with the other.

She pressed a short kiss to the column of Jon's throat and pulled away with some difficulty.

"I'm hungry Jon, let's have one of the pastries I brought you."


End file.
